


Five times Stella Gibson did not admit she was in love, and one time she did

by StellaGibsonsGirl



Category: The Fall (TV 2013)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2019-12-30 02:22:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18306260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StellaGibsonsGirl/pseuds/StellaGibsonsGirl
Summary: A series of events, inspired by E. E. Cummings's magical way with words.





	1. "(i carry it in my heart)"

As the plane makes its quick descent into Heathrow airport and the “fasten-your-seatbelt” signs light up, Stella leans her head back, remembering their last soft caresses in Tanya’s bed earlier in the day – and the way their hands had touched “goodbye” in Tanya’s doorway, right before Stella’s taxi had pulled up, taking her back to her hotel to get her bags, and then to the Belfast airport. If she concentrates and closes her eyes now, if she leaves behind this moment of continual descent, if she can blend out the plane’s coordinated approach into London and the regular noise of the engine, she can still smell Tanya’s bedsheets, can feel her hair tickle her cheeks, can feel her skin on hers, can feel her hot breath on her throat, her soft moans sounding in her ears.

Stella shakes her head, “Don’t go there, don’t go there, don’t go there;” as if to pull herself out of a dream, as if to force herself to return to a different life; a life before Belfast, before Paul Spector, before the nightmare that was the case awaiting her there, and before the dream that was Tanya Reed-Smith. She must forget the moment her blue eyes met dark brown, that night in the bar, their first kiss, their second kiss, their motorcycle ride, and the past night. She must forget. She can’t go there again, it won’t work, those things never work, and everyone will end up hurt – and everyone is already aching from the case. There must not be any more pain, no more harm; it is all hard already and who will recover from it, and how?

Stella’s last night in Belfast had been everything her assignment was not; shy gazes and touches that turned into caresses, turned into kisses, turned into indulgence, turned into silk and softness, and finally into sleeping in each other’s arms. If she concentrates and closes her eyes - but “Don’t go there, don’t go there, don’t,” her inner voice reminds her as the plane touches ground, as she disembarks, as she almost runs through the arrivals hall and gets into a taxi.

After such an extended absence, she finds her apartment unfamiliar and cold, letters and papers collecting in her entrance, her fridge almost empty but for some bottles. She feels her phone vibrate in her bag, it’s her friend, Maxine, “Honey, are you home? Do you need anything?” – she’ll answer her later; what she needs now is not conversation, is not pity, is not intrusion, is not even consolation, but is a shower and a glass of wine and she needs those damn tears to stop running down her face, needs to stop touching it to feel whether it still hurts, whether the wounds are still there, needs to stop remembering last night, needs to settle back into her life in London, needs to get over dark eyes and hair and soft lips and needs to live without those hands in hers - “Don’t go there…”

Stella undresses carelessly, no contemplation; steps into her shower, turns on the water, much too hard and too hot; too hot to make herself forget, too hard to feel something other than heartbreak and hopelessness and failure – whom did she not fail during this disastrous trip? It’s no use, “Don’t go there…,” and there’s nowhere her mind can turn, nowhere she can feel safe; she feels not at home in her house, feels alone and so very tired. So very tired but she needs to do something, needs to move on, needs to get back to work tomorrow, needs to settle back into her home, into her routine, needs a swim and no thought of… “Don’t go there…”

But she does go there. She does go there the same night, as she sleepless, tossing and turning in her bed, trying to force herself to stay in bed, goes there as picks up her phone at three a.m. and - her heart beating loudly in her chest, her ears ringing - orders for five long-stemmed white roses to be sent to Tanya’s home. Mindlessly, as if it’s not really her, but the ghost of Belfast still lingering in her dreams, following her around, fooling her, tempting her to think about… something sweeter than honey, something softer than silk. “Don’t go there…” And then she goes there for the rest of the night as she convinces herself this is not… it is not, but it’s delirium, it’s exhaustion, it’s a restless mind and she deserves the rejection after all the chaos she caused, deserves it in the face of all the disappointment she brought, deserves it just to hurt herself and - it’s what Stella Gibson does.

“Don’t go there,” and then as the sun rises she once more resolves not to, not again, at least not right now. It’ll heal. She will heal. She always heals. She will heal herself, her heart will forget, as will her body and her mind. And alone, on her own. As she’s always been.


	2. "trust your heart/ if the seas catch fire"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Begin again.

She has not heard from Tanya in days, but has also not been back in touch with her after her last message; a short note saying that things seem ok in Belfast and a picture of her morning coffee. 

A clear hint it’s phasing out, Stella thinks; it is phasing out and it’ll be ok. We will be ok. In the aftermath of it, we will all still be ok. Time will pass. They’ll eventually hear from each other less and less, and they’ll go on with their lives as before, though right now it feels like life has been changed undeniably by the case. But it is over and Stella knows she needs to move on. They all need to live. 

Stella assumes that in two weeks from now, her life will finally begin to feel as before that fateful evening by the elevator, and before her last night in Belfast – the one she spent in Tanya’s bed; and, personal borders weakened by the case, she’d let her in, had allowed her to come much closer and touch her much more deeply than she’d allowed for anyone in years, if not a whole decade. But things will soon be like before, before the moment their lips met and their bodies caught fire from deep within, before Tanya’s hands had soothed her wounds and her own eyes had calmed Tanya’s worries about something so fundamentally new and unexpected, and so unexpectedly beautiful in the middle of this whole mess that was the Belfast strangler case. Still, it’s ok. It’s over. She’s seen it coming – the end, that is, the end before the beginning. She can deal with this pain in addition. It’ll be fine. She’ll be ok. She just needs to remind herself of this. Constant assurance will make it ok. It has always helped. 

Even now, Stella’s limbs still feel sore from Spector’s attack, from the constant exhaustion that was the entire horrible case in Belfast, and from overtaxing herself immediately upon her arrival back in London; from her absolute inability to take a break and just rest and sleep for a few days, to treat herself to a massage, or just to an evening of soaking in her tub or a bar of her favorite chocolate. 

“Oh sweetie,” she had heard from her best friend Maxine, who had shown up at her door the night following her arrival, “why didn’t you tell me you are an absolute mess – let me make you some soup, and don’t drink all that whiskey; let me make you some hot ginger…” and Stella had not been able to say anything. She had but allowed her in, into the mess her life had become almost overnight, it seemed. And Maxine had not asked any questions at first, but she’d hugged Stella tightly and Stella may have cried a little into her shoulder, and then they’d sat on the couch and Maxine had asked quietly what had happened, but Stella was at a loss for the right words to say: I got hurt. I got hurt by the strangler, and now the strangler is dead; and I met a woman and I thought she had rejected me, but then she hadn’t, but now she has, or so I think. So she had just swallowed hard. Control. She had needed to get herself back under control: “It’s ok. Or it’ll be ok.” She still needs to be in control now.

Maxine’s visit had been ten days ago; and now time just flies by so fast and stands still at the same time, and all Stella wants is to get a message from Tanya, any small sign of life, a sign she’s there, she’s still thinking about her, even if their night hadn’t… hadn’t meant anything to her maybe – but that message had not come on Wednesday, and had not come yesterday, and will certainly not come today, not on a Friday. And Stella cannot get over herself and send a message, she cannot appear so needy; what could she possibly write? You stubborn fool, she scolds herself, you could of course tell her you miss her. But no, Stella has to come to terms with the fact that she’s not being missed in return, and she does not need to be reminded. No more humiliation is needed. It is phasing out, and this is the order of things, and so no matter how many times she thinks of her, Tanya will move on. And she, Stella, will too. 

Her phone ringing rouses Stella from too light a sleep; it is 3:43 a.m., much too early, but she can’t seem to really sleep anymore. Not deeply, not without waking every hour or so. Another disruption brought on by Spector. She’d always had a light sleep but waking so often was new. “Gibson,” she murmurs. “I’m sorry,” she hears a soft voice at the other end of the line, then something that sounds like suppressed crying, then “I didn’t know who to call.” “Tanya?” Stella is sure it is her, but her state is disquieting her. And still. Stella realizes she is the one Tanya confides in, she is the one she trusts with this, whatever it is. 

“I’m sorry,” Tanya says again. “It’s fine, honey… What is going on?” Stella immediately wants to calm her down, but there’s just more crying on the other end of the line. “What happened? You can tell me…” Stella tries again. “I’m…” Tanya begins, then takes a breath, and continues with a shaky voice, “I do not know what to do – and today I saw Rose and she is so weak, Stella, she is so so weak; and I am so afraid, and I do not know if she will recover… and my girls… and I never sleep anymore and I think nothing will ever be ok again and Stella…” Her voice begins to shake and Stella hears her swallow hard. “And it is all my fault and… it’s truly unforgiveable and…” Whatever else she wants to say, it gets lost in a sob that threatens to break Stella’s heart. “Tanya…” she tries to soothe her, “listen to me, this is not your fault, you have to trust me, none of it is and… and I wish I could promise you it’ll all be good again in the morning… but I know it’s not… but it’ll get better, I swear,… it’ll get better every day.” 

There’s just more sobbing for a while, then Tanya’s soft voice comes back. “I hope so…” “I promise it to you, I really do.” “I am sorry, Stella,…” Tanya adds quietly, “I am so sorry for being so weepy and… for waking you…” “No worries, really. Please, please talk to me… and I do not sleep either.” Beat. “I… I… I miss you, Stella,” Tanya almost seems to stumble over the words. “I miss you, too…” Stella feels a single tear run down her cheek. Control. She needs to stay in control. And then: “Can I… do you think I could see you… sometime… anytime?” 

This is unexpected. And it’s Tanya asking. Stella knows it’s not a good idea. Not if things are supposed to return to normalcy, not if she wants to remain cool, not if this is going to phase out. And yet. And yet, as soon as those words are spoken, Stella knows it is what she wants, in whichever way Tanya is willing. Just a shared dinner, or maybe a hug, or… or maybe staying with her, and staying close to her… and feeling each other, and maybe just maybe… “Yes,” Stella says quietly, “yes of course.” And then she adds, “Please. I would like that… I would like that a lot.” 

She hears Tanya taking a relieved breath. “Do you…” Stella whispers, “do you think you can sleep now?” “Yes... but I don’t want to hang up…” “Then don’t…” comes from Stella, “I will stay here until you fall asleep. Until I am sure you’re ok. And tomorrow, tomorrow is a different day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still to come: 
> 
> 3\. “[love is more thicker than forget.]”  
> 4\. “(all nearness pauses, while a star can grow.)”  
> 5\. “darling,did you kiss/ me quickly count to never?”   
> 6\. “Someone asked me what home was, and all I could think of were the stars on the tip of your tongue, the flowers sprouting from your mouth, the roots entwined in the gaps between your fingers, the ocean echoing inside of your rib cage.”

**Author's Note:**

> parts still to come:   
> 2\. “trust your heart/ if the seas catch fire.”   
> 3\. “[love is more thicker than forget.]”  
> 4\. “(all nearness pauses, while a star can grow.)”  
> 5\. “darling,did you kiss/ me quickly count to never?”   
> 6\. “Someone asked me what home was, and all I could think of were the stars on the tip of your tongue, the flowers sprouting from your mouth, the roots entwined in the gaps between your fingers, the ocean echoing inside of your rib cage.”


End file.
